


To Draw a Crowd

by HootingLance



Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), Sea Monsters, Ship battle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 21:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HootingLance/pseuds/HootingLance
Summary: A ship of hunters run into a Jhen Mohran on their way to Loc Lac City.





	To Draw a Crowd

Emyrie was on the deck when the first collision rocked the ship. The ship, _The Rusted Wytherin_ tilted starboard, so harshly that several hunters were thrown off their feet, tumbling across the wooden deck as they scrambled to grab something, anything, to save them from being tossed overboard. The sand of the Great Desert was like water in these parts, and you'd sink through it just as quickly, dragged down by your armour. If you somehow managed to avoid this, there pod of Delex that followed the ship would soon be biting at your heels, and you'd only be able to fend them off for so long.

Emyrie, having the good fortune to be leaning on a guardrail, gripped it one handed as the world turned around her. With her free hand, she pulled one of her Dual Blades from its scabbard and hooked it around the railing. Just when it felt like the ship was destined to roll over completely, the ships sub-sand rudders caught, the great sails billowed indignantly, and the _Rusty Wytherin_ righted itself with a mighty crash. Emyrie, along with a dozen other hunters and sailors, hit the deck, and had just enough time to look skyward and see their attacker rise before them, blocking out the sky above. A Jhen Mohran. A tusked, serpentine ender dragon, over one hundred metres long. As it breached, arching over the ship, over the masts and the sails, it's colossal body seemed to stretch forever. Even after its head hit the sand on the other side of the ship, driving through it like water, its body still stretched on, flowing overhead.

The captain, a mad old ex-hunter, laughed and held his longsword up in glee. “Look at that! Not a hallowed! No trace of frenzy! Piece of cake! Everyone, remember your jobs! Are those cannons loaded?”

“You know they are!” snapped the first mate, a wyverian. It was common knowledge that the wyverian was only on the ship because of a (long) lifetimes work of gambling debt. His expertise made him an asset, but he often disagreed with the captain’s orders. Case in point: the cannons. The captain wanted them loaded and ready at all times, regardless of how many times the wyverian yelled himself hoarse warning about the dangers of such a practise. Right now Emyrie was glad that the captain insisted.

“Fire all cannons!” the captain called, “Let's piss him off!” Emyrie, not part of the cannon squad, covered her ears as she ran to her designated station. Each cannon, preloaded with three cannonballs, fired repeatedly. The sounds of their wrath was like a violent storm of thunder and lightning localised entirely on one side of the ship. The Jhen Mohran, still arching over the ship, was hit in the side by the barrage; fifteen cannonballs, pelting it like a swarm of wasps.

The elder dragon cried, the sound emanating from the desert itself, and its tail thrashed violently, snapping the mast to splinters and sweeping two cannons, crates of supplies, and whoever was unlucky enough to be standing close by, off the deck and into the Great Desert. Dead before they hit the sand.

“Hard to starboard!” the captain roared, somehow making his voice heard through the rain of wood and sand. The ship turned sharply, positioning itself so that the Jhen Mohran was dead ahead.

“Ready the dragonator!”

Canons exploding all around her, Emyrie ran. Past bowmen taking aim and gunners reloading, past felynes and palicos and masked shakalakas, all scurrying about with extra ammo and whetstone, or else taking aim themselves. Up the stairs and onto the bow of the ship, where other hunters had already begun to aim the massive weapon, while others tossed the fires below, adding whatever fuel they could reach. The dragonator was a steam powered weapon, fueled by the fires that permanently burned below deck. Rolling under it, Emyrie added her strength to the other's, and together they forced the massive barrel higher.

“What's taking so long?” asked a hunter beside Emyrie, who'd managed to duck under the dragonator beside her and was bearing it on his shoulders.

“Not time yet.” said a third hunter. Probably the poor sod who managed to be given the task of activating the dragonator itself. Not a difficult job - the firing mechanism was initiated by pulling a large lever - but it was easy to time incorrectly. No one had any love or sympathy for a hunter who fires a dragonator too early. The ship, lined up properly now, began to charge toward the Jhen Mohran. It was a slow ram, but impressive enough that the elder dragon rose to meet the challenge. Rearing up like a snake, the Jhen Mohran swam forward, it's mighty head dipping to impale the ship on its long, deadly tusks.

"I think it's time!” Emyrie said. The heat from the furnace below had her drenched in sweat. The barrel of the dragonator was impossibly heavy, and slipping.

“Not yet!”

Emyrie shifted her footing, gripping onto the armour of another hunter to keep herself steady. More hunters were joining them every moment, jostling for room, trying to help.

“Just about…”

Someone poured dash juice over Emyrie.

“Closer, you big fucking turd of a dragon. Closer damn it!”

Someone was playing a hunting horn. Emyrie could hardly hear it over the roar of the Jhen Mohran. It sounded like the wind itself wanted to kill them.

“What are you doing?”

“Shoot!”

“I'll do it, get him out of the way!”

The Jhen Mohran leaned forward. The sky blackened. The ships figurehead (a mermaid clad in armour with a real Datura blade in its hands) shattered as the elder dragon collided with the ship, the _Rusted Wytherin_ crumpling before it.

“Now!”

Emyrie felt as though someone had hit her over the back with a hammer. Steam erupted everywhere as the hunter pulled the lever, and the dragonator spewed its mighty payload: three spinning drills, thrust forward faster than the eye could see, impaling themselves into the breast of the Jhen Mohran. As they flew from the fires below, every hunter supporting the weapon was thrown backward. Those standing by were enveloped in stream so thick, their skin was burned. But their injuries were nothing compared to those of the Jhen Mohran, who rocked backwards, screaming loud enough to make grown men faint. One of its tusks snapped off, spinning away and landing with a crash. The elder dragon was not dead, and its wounds not life threatening, but rather than engage the ship again, the Jhen Mohran swept around, roaring, and retreated.

The men and woman on the ship roared and cheered and pranced in celebration. Emyrie, her back hurting badly, sat back, and took the potion someone offered her.

“Time to collect the spoils!” the captain was yelling at whoever would listen. “Any man who helps gets a larger portion!”

Emyrie tried to rise - she could use all the spoils she could get, especially as her meagre zenny wallet wouldn't stretch far in Loc Lac City - but her muscles refused. The captain would ensure she got a share regardless, albeit not as much, so she made herself comfortable on the deck beside another exhausted hunter. Head resting on the railing, she looked eastward, toward the city that would soon be her home. It was said that the city walls were carved from the tusks of Jhen Mohran. She'll have her work cut out for here there, in the hunters’ city. Emyrie shut her eyes, and smiled, the sounds of horns and cheering, prancing hunters filling her ears. She couldn't wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it. Haven't written fanfiction for years but I used to be really into it. Going through a bit of a bleh period, writing wise, atm so thought this would be a good way to get back into it. 
> 
> This was a part 1 of 2 (maybe 3, let's see how it goes). The next part is the bit I actually wanted to write about, I just ended up having fun with this silly action scene.


End file.
